Chapter 183: Secrets We’re Both Keeping 

Chapter 183: Secrets We’re Both Keeping 
Aurora

Eleanora smirked knowingly. “Let me guess… wears suits too well and owns half of the city?”

“Something like that,” I murmured, amused.

“I’m glad it’s going well,” she said after a pause, her tone a little more genuine now. “It suits you.”

I gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”

She was silent for a moment, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass again.

Then she looked at me, eyes a little more focused. “And how’s your father? The… family business?”

I blinked, the fork pausing mid-air.

That wasn’t a casual question. I mean the question completely threw me off.

But I answered anyway.

“It’s… tense,” I admitted after a moment, setting my fork down gently. “Like I told you before, my dad's been quiet lately. I don’t know if it’s guilt or… just exhaustion from everything. But he’s definitely not as present as he used to be.”

I glanced at my hands. “Business-wise, the men are still loyal. But there’s a slight shift in how they move. Like they’re waiting for something. Maybe for him to step back. Or for me to step up.”

Eleanora studied me for a beat. But she didn’t say anything. She just nodded once, a small movement that somehow felt understanding.

I didn’t expect to feel this way. Sitting here, eating pasta, sipping iced drinks, and talking about mafia power shifts with the girl I once saw as my enemy.

I watched her laugh softly at something the waiter said to a couple near us, and my thoughts drifted.

I wasn’t sure why she and I got off on the wrong foot.

Well… okay. It was because of Leonardo.

But now… now that I was actually getting to know her, sitting across from her without walls or claws or passive-aggressive jabs—it didn’t feel so bad.

In fact…

A teensy, weeny part of me—one I’d never admit out loud—was kind of glad that Eleanora was my sister.

Even if the world had written our story in the messiest ink, maybe we were starting to rewrite it in our own way.

Not perfect.

Not even close.

But maybe… just maybe… this was a start.

Leonardo

The man didn’t even get a chance to scream.

A clean slice—nothing too flashy. Quick. Efficient.

Just the way I liked it.

I hadn’t done this kind of thing in a while. Not personally, at least. I had men for that now. Men who were paid enough to disappear names and dig holes deep enough the police would never sniff. But some grudges… they needed to be handled with your own hands.

Call it pride. Call it instinct. Call it a reminder.

Tonight, I needed one.

The warehouse stank of gasoline and sweat and old metal. My boots crushed dried glass as I walked over what was left of his men. Behind me, Gabriele and Paolo stayed close, guns still drawn, alert even though the hard part was over.

“Burn it,” I muttered, already slipping my gloves off.

Marco nodded once. “You want it loud or quiet?”

“Loud,” I said without a second thought. “Let it send a message.”

The man had been poking around our docks for months—hijacking shipments, bribing weak links, acting like I wouldn’t notice.

He must’ve forgotten who this part of the city belonged to.

As we stepped out into the cool night air, the sharp scent of Rome hit me all over again. It was past 11 p.m., and the city had that strange hush it only wore when no one was watching. I wiped the edge of my jaw with the back of my sleeve, smearing blood across it without much thought.

A few bruises burned under my shirt. One to the ribs. A minor hit to the shoulder. Nothing deep.

I’d missed this.

The way adrenaline made your pulse race. The steady focus. The taste of control.

It was intoxicating.

By the time we reached the car, Paolo was already lighting a cigarette like it was just another Tuesday.

“You good, boss?”

I nodded once. “Drive.”

The ride back to the estate was quiet—just the low hum of the engine and the occasional flick of Paolo’s lighter as he chain-smoked half a pack. My eyes stayed on the road, but my mind drifted.

Home.

Aurora.

A long shower.

In that order.

I rolled my knuckles slowly, feeling the sting beneath the skin. It would fade. What I needed now was hot water and maybe a glass of whiskey if I still had the energy for it. I wasn’t sure if Aurora would still be awake by the time I got back. She usually tried to wait up—but some nights, sleep won the war.

I didn’t mind.

There was something oddly calming about walking into our room and seeing her curled up in my sheets, face soft and relaxed, completely unaware of the world burning outside. The last time that happened, I’d stood by the door for a full minute before I even moved.

Just watched her.

The way her lashes touched her cheeks. The way her lips parted slightly as she breathed. The rise and fall of her chest.

Peace.

And no matter how long my day had been, that sight always… steadied me.

I stepped out of the car as the gate closed behind us, nodding at the men by the entrance. One of them tried to say something—probably about the meeting we had scheduled with Russo tomorrow—but I raised a hand to cut him off.

“Tomorrow,” I said simply.

He nodded, backing away immediately.

I climbed the stairs slowly, the ache in my muscles finally catching up with me now that the high had started to dip. The hallway lights were dim, casting golden shadows along the marble floor. I loosened my collar with one hand, dragging the backs of my fingers along my jaw.

Home.

I twisted the knob to our room quietly, not wanting to wake her if she was already asleep.

But as I pushed the door open, I stopped.

She was awake.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, her back against the headboard, phone in hand… smiling.

It was a soft kind of smile. The kind that wasn’t forced.

But the moment she looked up—and saw me—something shifted.

She flinched.

Only slightly.

Like I’d caught her doing something she shouldn’t.

Then her hand moved—fast—and she dropped her phone beside her like it had suddenly gone cold.

My brows lifted, just a little.

That was… odd.

“Aurora?” I said, voice low, steady.

But my gut?

It tightened.

Because something about that moment didn’t sit right with me.

Not one bit.

“Hey!” she chirped, her voice oddly high-pitched as she scrambled off the bed.

My eyes narrowed just a little.

That wasn’t her normal tone.

“You’re finally back,” she added, crossing the room toward me. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

I didn’t move.